


Advent

by smithandbarrowman



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 16:41:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21831955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithandbarrowman/pseuds/smithandbarrowman
Summary: Wealth. Excess. Opulence. Grandeur. Lucius Malfoy knows no other way. So when Hermione Granger demands simplicity for Christmas, will he rise to the occasion or fail miserably in his task?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy
Comments: 15
Kudos: 182
Collections: Strictly Lumione Christmas Fest 2019





	Advent

“Lucius, please, I want you to stop with all the gifts!” Hermione was exasperated. Ten days into December and she’d received ten gifts — ten expensive, over-the-top gifts that were Lucius’ idea of an advent surprise.

Lucius chuckled. “You know that's not going to happen. You deserve to be spoiled, and spoiled you will be.”

Hermione pursed her lips and slammed her hands on her hips. “Lucius. I have told you repeatedly, Christmas is—“

“Not a big deal, I know.” He cupped her face in his warm hands and sighed. “I know you don’t want to make a fuss, and I know your heart breaks because your parents are not here, but I _ am _ here, and I want to do this for you. Will you please allow it?”

“No!” she snapped, and slapped his hands away. “I won’t _ allow _ it. You bought me this god-damned house, Lucius, that should be enough!”

She spun on her heel and stormed away, but she’d not moved quickly enough. Lucius saw the tears forming in her eyes, saw the distress on her face. However, he remained where he was. Following her was pointless; she was stubborn, and now that she was upset, she would be beyond unreasonable.

Startling at the sound of a door slamming, he exhaled a defeated breath and headed for the den. He simply wanted the best for her and he couldn’t understand why she resisted as much as she did.

A year and a half they’d _ officially _ been together, but it had been several months prior to their announcement that they had started secretly seeing each other. And it had taken almost a year of actively pursuing her before she finally relented and accepted his dinner invitation.

And that dinner had been quite the success. 

He had been aware of her intelligence — Draco’s constant rants during his school holidays attested to that — but he’d not realised the extent of her knowledge of the wizarding world and its history.

They had barely taken a breath as they conversed between bites of food, not noticing the hour until they were politely told the restaurant had closed. And he’d not minded her laughter when he offered to walk her home. Apparition was quicker, she had told him, but he had refused. 

His heart had stuttered as she casually slipped her arm through his, pressing against his side as they walked. Her constant chatter was like a breath of fresh air, nothing like the pompous bores he was used to conversing with. Money, property, and investments were the usual order of dinner conversation in his world, not the elf uprising of twelve-seventeen, or the Trollish translations that the Swedish Ministry had recently commissioned. 

When they’d finally arrived at her door, he’d lifted her hand to his lips and gently kissed her delicate fingers. 

Had he wanted her to ask him in? _ Definitely _.

Had he wanted to lay her on her bed and spend the night memorising every inch of her body? _ More than anything. _

Had he bid her goodnight and Apparated home, imagining her naked form while he took matters into his own hands? _ Absolutely. _

He’d sent flowers to her the next day with a small note telling her how much he’d enjoyed her company, and that he hoped he might be privileged to enjoy another evening with her in the future. And much to his pleasure, he’d not had to wait long. 

She’d accompanied him to dinner twice more that week, and then three more times the following week. And it was after their third dinner of the second week she had allowed him to kiss her goodnight. 

And it was with that one kiss, he knew. She was the woman he had been searching for. The woman he knew would heal his heart. 

Narcissa’s death had been unexpected and sudden, and his heartbreak had been all-consuming. He had hidden away in the years following her passing and only emerged again when his son had told him that enough was enough. 

He’d slowly come back to society, but the lavish parties and dull conversations held no interest for him anymore. It wasn’t until one Hermione Granger flitted into his life, when he visited St. Mungos and discovered the profession she had chosen, that he truly came back to life again. And it was with that first visit he had become fascinated by the woman he once wished expelled from his world. 

With Astoria’s illness progressing, he decided to donate a rather large sum to fund research into finding a cure for the blood curse that was slowly poisoning her body. And, as the fates would have it, Hermione Granger was appointed head of the team.

She’d been curt and formal when they’d first met, her dark eyes cold and unforgiving as she explained what they were doing and where his money was being spent. It wasn’t necessary for him, of course, to visit as regularly as he did, but as each week passed, she seemed to relax around him. She later admitted it was his natural curiosity that had won her over, and in turn he had told her that her intellect and knowledge had been the turning point for him.

She wasn’t classically beautiful like Narcissa had been — poised and elegant with an air of aloofness — instead, Hermione was a natural beauty. Wild curls, a light smattering of freckles across her nose, and her eyes were the deepest shade of chestnut he had ever seen. A hard worker, her sleeves were always rolled up, and she usually had a smudge of something across her cheek or jaw. But instead of disgusting him, it only endeared her to him more.

He’d been patient, uncharacteristically so for him, but he knew her well enough to know she would hex him without a thought if he stepped out of line. But he hadn’t, and after a year of pursuing her, and a month of dinners, she invited him into her home. 

And when she had finally allowed him inside her body, he had worshipped her with a reverence he’d shown no other. He memorised every scar, every freckle, every inch of her perfect skin. He kissed, and tasted, and would never forget that tiny moment when he pushed inside her and joined their bodies for the very first time. It had been euphoric, had been a feeling his feeble imagination hadn’t been able to conjure. She had been stunning in her release — her head thrown back, her neck taut as she seized up beneath him, giving in to her own pleasure and crying out his name. That in his nervousness he had still been able to bring her over had caused pride to surge through him. 

His own release had hit him hard, barreling down his spine and pressing him deeper inside her spasming core. His seed had shot out of him in great waves, not ceasing until he collapsed onto her completely spent, and she completely filled. 

She’d not allowed him to clean her; instead she’d insisted that she wanted to feel him there, right inside her where he belonged. Then she’d curled into him, stretching an arm across his chest and tucking her chin over his shoulder. And that was how he had spent his first night with her — wrapped closely, her body warm and pliant against his. 

Narcissa had been a generous lover, but the tiny woman wrapped in his arms had been breathtaking. And after their history, that she had allowed him the privilege of losing himself in her body kept him awake for hours after she’d succumbed to sleep. 

In the days and weeks that followed, they had spent almost every night together, always in her bed — she inviting him before he had the chance to offer the same. She had eventually confessed why, telling him she would not, under any circumstances, ever return to the Manor. He understood her reasons and didn’t hesitate to vacate his ancestral home, purchasing a Central London townhouse to accommodate her needs. Much smaller than the Manor, but nonetheless opulent, it had four bedrooms, four bathrooms, a library, a den, a vast kitchen/living area, a formal dining room, plus a private rooftop terrace, all spread over three floors. 

But as perfect as it was, it had been the source of their first disagreement. Her disbelief at his purchase had shocked him. And her insistence that there was absolutely nothing wrong with her flat had made him laugh derisively. But he had discovered with this disagreement just how stubborn she could be. 

Several days passed without a word from her. Even his visit to the hospital lab had been conducted by another member of her research team. He’d relented — of course he had — and went to her home. 

He had explained he’d not meant to vex her; his intention had only been to seek comfort for her in a home he wished they would one day share. The Manor, he had said, was a place of bad memories, not only for her but for him as well, and selling it had felt like a weight lifted from his back. 

But, he had also told her firmly, he would not live in the tiny flat she called home. The Manor was ridiculously large for one person, and her flat too small for two. The townhouse would be a fitting compromise. 

She’d responded, of course, by saying she’d not agreed to live with him, and therefore buying himself a townhouse was pointless. He may as well have kept the Manor. 

He’d grinned at her and told her the townhouse was, in fact, not his. Her name was on the titles; he’d bought it for her. 

It was another week before she spoke to him again. 

But she _ had _ eventually moved into the house before the previous Christmas, and that was when he learned of her indifference to the day. Harry had actually been the one to warn him, had let him know that the less fuss he made, the easier it would be. 

So Lucius had complied. He had made little fuss, and had given her simple gifts — books and trinkets and a small diamond necklace. She’d accepted the gifts and had then curled herself into an armchair in the library and spent the day reading. 

This Christmas, however, he had decided to make some changes. It would be Scorpius’ first Christmas, and he wouldn’t allow her to be miserable. While they could never replace her parents, they were her family now.

And he was determined to change her mind about Christmas. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Hermione woke early, her restless night weighing heavily on her. Lucius was sleeping soundly beside her, but his usual closeness was absent. He was sprawled on his stomach, his face turned away from her, and his arm, which was normally draped over her, was curled beneath his pillow. 

She deserved it, she guessed, the distance. She’d acted appallingly, hiding away like a child. But her emotions were on a knife’s edge as of late, and one comment — even an innocuous one — could tip her towards anger or tears in seconds. It would be yet another Christmas without her parents, which was hard enough, but knowing they were alive and well and living on the other side of the world with no memory of ever having a daughter always broke her heart. 

Adding to that, she had finally found love. A love that was as unexpected as it was familiar. It was just one more thing they didn’t get to enjoy — seeing their daughter so happy. 

And he did make her happy — most of the time. It was just his insistence that she needed every material thing under the sun at her disposal that irritated her. She needed nothing more than what she had — a home, a job, and someone who loved her. It was of no consequence to her how much money he had, or how many possessions. She had been raised to work hard and appreciate the small things in life. 

Not that Lucius didn't work hard. Yes, his job was mostly managing his vast property and investment portfolios, but he also sat on the boards of several charitable organisations now, and he was overseeing the expansion of the research labs at St Mungo's during his weekly visits.

But she was still uneasy with the wealth that surrounded her. 

Lucius stirred beside her, murmuring unintelligibly, and rolling onto his back. His eyes blinked open briefly, a small smile curled his lips, and then he was asleep again. 

Hermione gently brushed his hair from his face and gazed down at him. She’d come to bed late — not wanting to talk to him but unable to sleep without him beside her — and snuck in quietly. She’d felt guilty; they always chatted while they readied themselves for bed. But she just wasn’t able to face him when she was still reeling from both her tantrum and his unwillingness to see her point of view. 

She sighed and pressed a kiss over his heart. She loved him, she really did, but it was days like the previous one that she wanted to hex him into submission.

She slipped quietly out of the bed and cast a silencing charm in the bathroom so the running water of the shower didn’t wake him. She readied herself for work; she would be two hours early, but at least her mind would be occupied with thoughts that weren’t about Lucius Malfoy. 

Tip-toeing quietly out of the bathroom, Hermione stopped briefly to pull the covers over him. He’d rolled over again, and as much as she appreciated the view of his muscular back, she didn’t want him to get cold. She kissed his cheek and quickly left the room, stepping into the floo with a heavy sigh. She hated leaving like she was, but some distance from everything at home would be good. 

She arrived at her desk expecting to see yet another extravagant gift waiting for her, but what was actually awaiting her gave her a surprise.

A single white daisy lay across the polished wood, a small scroll attached to its stem. 

_ Innocence and purity, _ she thought with a quiet laugh, but she knew that wasn’t the meaning it was conveying. _ Loyal love _ was what this small flower was saying. 

She picked it up and smiled. Daisies always made her smile, and Lucius knew that. The foyer of the townhouse had been filled with them on the day she had moved in, and it was the smile that spread across her face that Lucius had been most pleased with.

Unfurling the scroll, her breath caught at the sight of the looping script of Lucius’ handwriting. It was elegant, old-school, the exact thing that made her swoon.

_ My Darling, _

_ Might I express my deepest apologies for causing you such distress? It was with only the most sincere heart that I wished to bestow upon you the gifts that you so deserve. You have brought such joy into my life; your smile is the light which I seek each day. The love and devotion which you show me is surely more than I should ever deserve, and as such, these gifts are not nearly enough to express the emotions you draw from deep within my soul. _

_ Loyal love, that’s what I offer you. For you are the beginning and end of my day. You are the laughter and radiance upon which I thrive. You are the passion and desire I never dared to dream of. _

_ I ask that you please accept this small token of my loyalty, of my unwavering devotion, of my adoration and love. _

_ You have my heart, my darling, and you have it forever and always. _

_ Yours, _

_ Lucius _

A single tear dripped onto the parchment, the salt water spreading and spidering in a perfect circle. 

He was apologising. 

He was apologising for his kindness. 

He was apologising for her ingratitude.

Her stomach turned. _ What was wrong with her? _ Yes, she struggled this time of year, but she’d completely misunderstood his attempts to make the holiday more cheerful for her, taking them as sheer wealthy indulgences. 

She sat heavily in her chair as more tears welled in her eyes, her emotions overflowing once more. 

“Hermione, you’re early again—” 

Cecilia Rhodes, the head of the research department at St Mungo’s, and Hermione’s boss, stopped short when she saw the state Hermione was in. She closed the door quietly behind her and sat in the chair on the opposite side of the desk. 

Hermione glanced up at her and tried unsuccessfully to smile. 

“Oh, honey,” Cecilia’s tone was sympathetic. “What happened?”

“Lucius… I didn’t want... daisy…” Hermione choked the words out. 

“You don’t like daisies?” 

Hermione laughed despite her tears. “No, I love... daisies, but…. Lucius was trying to... spoil me, and... I flipped out… and he sent me this.” 

Cecilia shook her head and chuckled. “I think you’d better start at the beginning. What’s really going on?”

Hermione took a steadying breath and then spilled her tale. Why she got so emotional at Christmas, Lucius’ ridiculous advent stunt, the extravagance that she hated. Her tantrum. Lucius’ note, and finally the daisy. 

Cecilia listened, nodding her head and hmm-ing in all the right places. 

“And I hate that I got angry over what really amounts to nothing.” She wiped her tears away with her sleeve. “I mean, Lucius makes Bill Gates look like a pauper.”

Cecilia frowned and Hermione apologised. 

“Sorry, rich muggle.” 

“Okay,” Cecilia said with a slow nod. “So, if Lucius has more money than he knows what to do with, and wants to spoil you, what’s the issue?”

“I don’t really know,” Hermione sighed. “But I do know that I don’t need diamonds and designer lingerie and red-soled shoes.”

Cecilia tilted her head and looked at her thoughtfully. “Well, if you don’t want them, I’ll take them,” she said, making Hermione laugh. “Hermione, honey, listen. He’s probably only doing this because it’s what he knows — extravagance and opulence and expensive things. So, he most likely doesn’t know that it’s simple things like daisies and romantic notes that will make you happy.”

Hermione winced. “And I probably wasn’t very clear when I was yelling at him.”

“No, probably not,” Cecilia agreed. “And these tears? They’re stressful tears. You need to go home—” she held up her hand as Hermione began to protest. “No arguments. Take a day. Go home and talk to him.” 

“But—“

“Uh-uh,” Cecilia pointed at the door. “Home, Ms Granger.”

* * *

Hermione stepped out of the floo, barely an hour after she’d stepped into it, and ran straight into Lucius’ chest. 

“Oomf,” she mumbled into his shirt as his arms came up to steady her. 

“Hermione?” His voice sounded alarmed. “What’s happened?”

Flinging her arms around his neck, she caught him off guard, and he stumbled backwards against the ferocity of her embrace. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Lucius wrapped one arm around her waist, and cradled her head with his other hand. “Darling, what’s happening?”

She lifted her head to look at him, holding the daisy — which was looking slightly battered — where he could see it. “You gave me a daisy.”

“I’m sorry?” He sounded confused.

“No, _ I’m _ sorry.” She pressed a kiss over his heart. “I’m acting like an irrational psychopath, and you’re just trying to be sweet and I should have just let you and—”

“Slow down, Hermione.” Lucius lifted his hands to cup her face. “Take a breath and talk to me.”

She nodded and closed her eyes, pulling a deep breath of air into her lungs and exhaling slowly. She repeated the action several times until she felt her pulse slow and her shoulders relax. She opened her eyes and found him smiling patiently at her. 

“You sent me a daisy,” she said. “And you apologised for my ridiculous behaviour, and my ingratitude. I hate this time of year, Lucius, but I realise now that you were only trying to bring some joy back into Christmas for me.”

“But it’s not joyful if the gifts I gave you were causing you stress.” He shrugged off his thick winter robes and placed them on the coat stand beside the floo. 

“Oh!” Hermione exclaimed as he tugged the fingers of his leather gloves, removing them and placing them on the mantle. “You were headed out.”

“I was coming to you,” he told her, and then led her to the sofa. “You were gone when I woke, and I was concerned.”

“Sorry,” she murmured. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“I’m not sure that’s accurate. Overthinking might be closer to the truth.”

She glanced down to where his hand was resting gently on her thigh and internally berated herself for worrying him so much. 

But he also needed to know the truth.

“Lucius, I know you have money, and I know you want me to believe that everything that is yours is also mine, but I don’t think like that. I still struggle with the fact that this house is mine.” She reached for his hand and linked their fingers. “I don’t need extravagance. I don’t need expensive gifts. I just need simple things.”

“Simple things?” 

“A roof over my head,” she lifted their joined hands to her lips. “and love in my heart for a man who I never dared to imagine loving.”

Lucius smiled at her and pulled her into his side, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “Simplicity? That’s all you need? Diamonds and lace and gold Galleons are of no interest?”

“I’ve no need of such things.” She turned her face to look up at him. “You could give me a daisy every day until Christmas and I would love it.”

He leaned down and kissed her. “Simplicity. It will be a challenge, Ms Granger, but one I’m sure I will rise to.”

* * *

  
  
  


After working ten days straight, Hermione emerged from the floo exhausted, but glad she now had the next week off. 

She was greeted with the flatted sounds of the blues and smiled; she would never have taken Lucius as a blues man. She had assumed he’d prefer something classical or operatic and was completely surprised the first time she’d heard him mention Robert Johnson, Howlin’ Wolf, and T-bone Walker. 

But he played it often, and while rock music was in her heart, he had taught her to appreciate the magic that was the blues. 

She was also greeted with the scent of Christmas. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, the warmth of cinnamon and the freshness of pine invaded her senses. It was Lucius’ subtle way of warming her to Christmas. 

And it had worked. 

Her parents’ absence was still heavy in her heart, but Lucius had made her see that while it was fine to miss them, it wasn’t fine to forget to live and disregard the moments she had once loved spending with them. 

He had also taken to heart her request for simplicity and each day a new flower greeted her. Daisy, iris, honeysuckle, tulip, the list went on, until this morning. Her desk was bare when she arrived at work, and her heart sank just a little. Despite her tantrum at his earlier extravagance, the flowers had made her smile. 

The floo closed behind her, flames filling the fireplace, and her disappointment of not receiving her final advent flower vanished. It seemed Lucius had plans to present her with gift number twenty-four personally, and clearly those plans didn’t include surprise guests stepping out of the fireplace.

“I thought I heard the floo,” Lucius said as he entered the room.

“Luckily it was me.” Hermione dropped her bag onto the coffee table and shrugged off her coat. “It seems the network is closed to the Granger household for the evening.”

Lucius chuckled, moving closer to cup her face in his hands and kiss her sweetly. “_ Granger _ household?”

“You’re well aware of who owns this house, Lucius.” Hermione glanced over his shoulder, only then noticing the spartan room. “However, it looks like you’ve been redecorating.”

With the exception of the furniture, the room was bare. No pictures, no books, none of the trinkets they’d collected in the time they’d been together. Even the Christmas decorations had vanished. 

“What are you up to?” Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.

“Why would you suspect I’m up to something?”

“Because it’s you. The living room is almost empty and the floo is blocked, and you _ never _ do that.” She turned back to the fireplace and noted the small vase of flowers on the mantle. “Are these…?”

“The last seven flowers I gave you? Yes.” 

“But why…?” She glanced around the near-empty room. 

“You requested only the simple things. I wanted you to see the flowers I gave you and nothing more.” Lucius kissed her cheek. “Do you remember the order in which I gave them to you?” 

Hermione smiled. Of course she remembered — they were lined up in her office. She stepped out of his embrace and touched each flower. “Marigold. Amaryllis. Ranunculus. Rhododendron. Yarrow. Magnolia. Elderflower. What's the signif—_ ohmygod _!”

She gasped and spun around, her jaw dropping open. Lucius was smiling, and in his hand was a small velvet box that held a stunning platinum art deco engagement ring.

“Marigold. Amaryllis. Ranunculus. Rhododendron. Yarrow. Magnolia. Elderflower,” she whispered, each word significantly heavier now she knew their meaning. “Marry me.”

Lucius took the ring from the box and held up her hand. “Will you?”

Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat. He’d proposed to her over the course of the week and she missed it. He’d taken her request for simplicity and turned it into the most romantic gift she had ever received. 

Tears welled in her eyes as she glanced up at him. His was still smiling at her, waiting for her answer. 

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes. I _ will _ marry you.”

Lucius slipped the ring onto her finger and lifted her hand to his lips. “We will start this new chapter of our lives with simplicity. A roof over our heads,” he pointed to the ceiling and then nodded at the fire, “warmth in our home,” he pressed her newly-jeweled hand over his heart, “and more love in my heart than I dared to ever hope for.” 

A choked sob escaped her and Hermione flung her arms around his neck, burying her face against his shoulder. Lucius’ arms folded around her, holding her tightly, and pressing a kiss to her temple. He rocked her gently, whispering her name over and over until she finally calmed down. 

Hermione sighed. She felt warm in his arms. She felt safe. She felt loved.

“I hope those were happy tears,” Lucius said when she finally looked up at him. 

“Very happy tears,” Hermione laughed. “I honestly don’t know how I missed it.”

“I will admit, I was expecting you to come home last night and tell me I was a pathetic sap.” 

“No, this isn’t pathetic or sappy.” Hermione pressed up on her toes and kissed him. “It was absolutely perfect. But…”

Lucius grinned at the glint in her eye. “But… what?”

She ran her fingertips across his jaw. ”Well, I was going to surprise you with your gift tonight, but…” she smiled at the ring on her finger, “...it kind of pales in comparison to this.”

Lucius smirked and slid his hand around her hip and up her ribs, ghosting over her breast and flicking open the top button on her shirt. 

“Would this gift perchance be the second advent gift I gave to you?” 

“No, as you can see, plain white lace today, not black.” 

She bit her bottom lip as he flicked several more buttons open and dragged her shirt over her shoulders.

“Hmm,” he murmured and dipped his head to press kisses along her collarbone. “I like this _ gift _ just as much.” 

“This is quite the romantic set up,” Hermione ran her hand through the soft strands of his hair. “Dimmed lights, fire burning, soft rug by said fire… Engagement ring.”

Lucius chuckled and glanced up at her. “Simplicity, Ms Granger. It’s what I do best.”

Hermione laughed. “Well then, Mr Malfoy, you had better simply make love to me in the dimmed light, beside this fire, on this soft rug, and seal this engagement.”

He grinned at her, a wicked, gleaming grin that warmed her in all the right places. He dipped his head once more, his lips touching her throat, and the warmth turned to flame. 

Her shirt floated to the floor, Lucius’ fingertips gliding slowly across her bared shoulders, tracing a teasing line over the curves of her breasts and down her stomach to the button on her trousers. He flicked it open easily then dragged the zipper down. Her trousers slid to the floor and pooled at her feet. They both glanced down and Hermione laughed. 

“Ridiculous expensive shoes,” She snorted and kicked them from her feet. She laughed again as she almost tripped as she tried to free her feet from the tangle of clothing. 

“Oh, sod it,” Lucius grumbled and pulled his wand from the side pocket of his own trousers and flicked it in the air. They were both instantly naked, and Hermione grinned. 

“That’s cheating.”

“I disagree. I’ve merely simplified the situation.”

Hermione pressed a kiss to the centre of his chest. “Hmm, I’m loving simplified Lucius Malfoy. So much so that I think…” She flicked her eyes down, he was half hard and growing harder now that he was released from the confines of his pants. “...you deserve a reward.”

She dropped to her knees, her mouth instantly on him. His hands gripped her head in surprise, watching her lips as they slid along his length. She was a vision like this; on her knees, pleasuring him, he completely at her mercy. Narcissa had never done this, had refused from the first time he suggested it. 

But Hermione… 

It was always like this with her, she never hesitated to take him into her mouth, never hesitated to allow him to spill his seed into her throat. 

And now, she wasn’t hesitating again. Her mouth was warm and wet, her tongue and teeth caressing and scraping his heavy shaft. It was incredible to watch her as she slid her lips further and further down the entire length of him until they were wrapped around the base of his cock. 

He groaned as she slowly, torturously, dragged her mouth back and swirled her tongue around the very tip. Her hand circled the base of him, the engagement ring so newly placed on her finger glinting in the firelight. She was going to marry him. She would be his wife. He would spend the rest of his life sending flowers to her at Christmas. 

The thought had him wanting so much more than her mouth on him. 

He held her head still and pumped into her mouth in several quick, sharp thrusts and then pulled back. She glanced up at him, a questioning expression on her face.

“Darling, I love your mouth, but it’s your body that I crave tonight.”

Lucius laid her down gently — the warmth of the fire taking the chill from the soft rug — and then covered her body with his. She shifted beneath him, hooking her feet over the backs of his thighs and Lucius groaned as his rigid length met the damp heat of her core. 

He moved slowly over her, whispering quietly, his voice purring in that familiar dignified tone that sent shivers down her spine. She arched beneath him, canting her hips up and down in a desperate attempt to have him fill her. 

“Patience, my darling,” he purred close to her ear, reaching his hand down to grip her thigh. “Sealing this engagement will take an insurmountable amount of time.”

Hermione moaned, first in frustration, then in absolute pleasure as his hand drifted leisurely up her body, his fingertips gliding over her thigh, her hip, her ribs, his hand covering her breast and squeezing gently. He rolled her nipple between his fingers, the dusky pink bud ripe and plump and asking for his mouth. 

He’d never been a breast man until Hermione. Toned legs and a firm arse had always been his weakness — not that she didn't have that. But from the first time he’d seen her naked, that weakness changed. Her breasts were warm and firm, and they filled his hands perfectly. 

Lucius lowered his head, his lips closing over the tight peak, his tongue pulling her deeper into his mouth. The taste of her skin was like summer rain — clean and fresh, and oh so sweet. 

A long, desperate moan filled the air, Hermione’s back arching, silently begging for more. He bit down gently, giving in to her plea, and she moaned again, her hands gripping his hair and holding him in place. Her hips rocked against him, the soaked slip of skin between her thighs caressing his swollen cock as he licked and bit and sucked one breast, while his hand roughly squeezed the other.

“Lucius… _ please _,” Hermione begged, her fingernails scratching along his spine and digging into his hips as she spread her thighs wider.

“You asked me to make love to you,” Lucius bit the inside of his cheek, the stab of pain forcing him to concentrate on her face, not on the brush of soft curls teasing the head of his cock. 

“Changed my mind,” she moaned. “Fuck me.”

For a moment he simply looked at Hermione's beautiful face. _ How could he resist her request? _

A whining groan left her as he pressed against her entrance, and her breath came out in a gasp, her body tightening around him as he thrust into her with one fierce stab of his hips. She dragged her knees along his ribs and her fingers dug into the hard flesh of his arse, urging him to slide deeper inside. 

“Is that what you wanted?” he whispered close to her ear, knowing it was _ exactly _ what she wanted. “You want me to fuck you? Is that what you want?”

Her _ yes _ was a long, drawn-out moan as he began to move inside her, each thrust of his cock deep and sure, dragging out her pleasure in slow, measured strokes. 

"_ Oh… _ please… Lucius," she cried as she rolled her hips beneath him. Her hands clenched tighter against his arse, wanting him to thrust deeper, harder, wanting him to crawl inside her entire being. 

“Please?” Lucius teased, speeding his thrusts and then slowing down. “I _ am _ pleasing you. I can feel your pleasure all over my cock.”

Hermione whined, “Faster. Fuck me faster. Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

Lucius’ heart skipped. He would never stop. Could never stop. He loved her — worshipped her — with everything he had. He locked his gaze on hers and began pounding into her in earnest, the force of his thrusts causing her to hook her legs around his hips so as not to slide across the floor. 

The pace and strength of his thrusts increased and became more erratic as he reached between them and thumbed her clit, sending her over the precipice with his name cried out in a keening wail. She arched against him, and he groaned into her neck as her body shuddered and her soft flesh clamped around him like a vice. 

Lucius held still, his own orgasm was dancing along his spine, but he waited until her body relaxed and released him from its grip. When she slowly opened her eyes, he began to move again. Long, deep thrusts that had him tensing within seconds and spilling his seed into her still pulsating core. 

Tiny aftershocks still shook her body as she slowly relaxed beneath him. His mouth covered hers in a quiet kiss, just a press of lips, a whisper of breaths. He was loathe to pull out of her, and she seemed reluctant to let him. Her arms held him tightly and she traced small patterns over his cooling skin. 

Lucius propped himself up, and for a few moments, he simply looked at her. “You are incredible,” he whispered. “This is where I wish to be for the remainder of my days.”

“Hmm, that sounds absolutely perfect.” Her mouth curved into a wicked grin. “However, I don’t imagine our guests would enjoy finding us in this state tomorrow.” 

“No,” Lucius chuckled. “But I’d have no issue with them seeing the satisfied expression that’s on your face right now.”

Hermione slapped his chest. “Rude.”

He circled her head with his arms, leaning down to kiss her again. “No, not rude, my darling. Just proud that I can _ simply _ satisfy you.”

* * *

  
  


“We’re keeping this Christmas simple, remember?” 

“But this is most unusual.”

“I don’t care,” Hermione smiled sweetly. “We’re eating in here. There’s plenty of room, and it will be easier with Scorpius. He can play on the mat if he gets fidgety at lunch. And I’m sure Pansy and Harry will need space for the pram.”

Lucius looked at the small table and sighed. He’d have preferred to eat in the formal dining room, as they had always done at the Manor.

“Lucius,” Hermione touched her hand over his heart. “It’s perfect in here. We have the view out the windows, it’s cosy with the fire, it’s comfortable and inviting, and it’s where we spend all of our time.”

Lucius looked out the picture windows and admittedly saw her point. The garden was covered with snow and had a certain sparkle about it as the winter sun shone sporadically through the grey clouds. And their living room _ was _ where they enjoyed their time; it made sense that their family and friends would feel more comfortable in this setting.

“You’re right,” he conceded. “This is perfect.”

The floo lit up and Astoria stepped out, smiling brightly and looking healthier than she had in months. Draco followed closely behind, Scorpius squealing with delight when he saw Lucius and Hermione.

“Mum!” he cried as Draco lowered him to the floor and he toddled on shaky legs towards Lucius, who scooped him up into the air. “Mum!”

Hermione laughed. Mum. It was the only word the tiny boy said, and it was what he called everyone — not just Astoria. She crossed the room to greet them, hugging Astoria tightly.

“How are you feeling?”

“Wonderful, actually. The first round of potions you administered has been amazing.”

Draco squeezed his wife’s shoulder and Hermione didn’t miss the look of hope they shared.

“Malfoy,” Hermione said curtly.

“Granger,” Draco replied with a curled lip.

Astoria rolled her eyes. “One child is enough, you two.”

Hermione grinned and Draco chuckled, pulling her into a tight hug. 

“Thank you,” he whispered. “She’s doing so well.”

“You’re welcome,” Hermione hugged him back, but almost jumped out of her skin when Astoria squealed.

“What is that!?” Astoria was pointing at the ring on Hermione’s finger. 

“Oh, yeah.” 

Hermione stepped away from Draco, not sure what his reaction would be. He had struggled when Lucius had first told him about their relationship, but had slowly come around. Hermione suspected Astoria had influenced the change, and she was grateful for it. But now…

“Lucius asked me to marry him, and I said yes.”

Astoria squealed again, engulfing Hermione once more. “This is so wonderful. I’m so glad you’ll be my new sis—“ She stopped and looked at Hermione, who was holding back a laugh. Draco wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulders. 

“Was that sister or evil step-mother?”

Hermione punched his arm. “Arse.”

Astoria winced. “Sorry. I made it weird, didn’t I?”

“What’s weird?” Pansy asked as she stepped out of the floo. “Lucius and Hermione? They’ve always been weird.”

“Merry Christmas, Pansy,” Lucius chuckled as he moved to stand beside Hermione, little Scorpius in the crook of his arm and pulling his hair. “So glad you could join us.”

Harry stepped into the room last, their six-week old daughter, Zoe, was strapped to his chest in a carrier. 

“Something’s weird?” Harry asked, as he checked the baby was okay from the floo trip. She was still sound asleep, not bothered at all by the rush of travelling at breakneck speed through the network. 

"What’s weird,” Draco said, “is that my father and our former schoolmate are now engaged.”

Pansy whooped with delight, grabbing Hermione’s hand and congratulating Lucius on his choice of ring.

Hermione’s eyes remained on Draco. “Do you have a problem with that?”

The excited chatter stopped and all eyes turned to Draco. His lips twitched and he cracked up laughing at Hermione’s expression. “Of course I don’t have a problem with it, Granger. I always wanted an evil step-mother. And now I’ve been given one for Christmas.”

Hermione plucked Scorpius from Lucius’ arms. “Scorpius Malfoy, please don’t turn out like your daddy. He’s an arse.”

“Arse,” Scorpius said, and Hermione clamped her hand over her mouth. 

Harry roared with laughter, as did Pansy and Lucius. Astoria was staring at her son, her mouth twitching and trying her hardest not to join in the laughter. 

Draco narrowed his eyes at Hermione. “I was right, as usual. Evil step-mother.”

“Arse,” Scorpius said again and gave Draco a toothy grin. 

This time they all laughed, and Scorpius clapped his hands in delight. And then, much to Astoria’s relief, went back to calling everyone _ mum _. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Lucius had been watching her all day. She’d given him a gold pocket watch, a vintage bottle of Ogden’s Firewhisky, and the three missing volumes of Nordic Runes he had spent years searching for to finish his collection. The gifts in no way paled in comparison to his asking her to marry him; the Nordic volumes alone were enough to make him want to cancel Christmas and spend the day thanking her… over and over again. 

But there was something he was missing. 

He had caught her simply looking at him several times during the day, an unreadable expression on her face. She didn’t look away from him when he caught her, just held his gaze until he himself smiled and looked away. 

Despite Draco’s teasing, their engagement had been welcomed with much excitement, and their day had been quite the change from the formal Christmases he was accustomed to. Scorpius had sat on Harry’s lap throughout dinner, and Draco had been so enamoured with Harry and Pansy’s baby girl, Lucius was sure if Astoria was well enough, Scorpius would be getting a baby sister of his own.

Their day had been one of sheer joy. Simply watching Scorpius as he opened his gifts had been a delight. Although, his grandson’s interest in the paper and ribbons had been far greater than the gifts themselves. 

And Hermione. 

She had actually been happy. Smiling and laughing, the sadness of her missing parents having departed, at least for the day. Her verbal sparring with his son was always entertaining, but the deep admiration Draco had for her was hard to miss. The potions created to restore Astoria’s health were clearly working, and Lucius knew his son would be forever grateful to Hermione for the work she was doing. 

And now, he sat in bed, staring at the closed door of the bathroom — she’d asked him to give her a few minutes while she readied herself for bed — and wondered with anticipation just what she had in mind. 

The door handle turned and he held his breath, but frowned as she stepped out. She was clad in pink flannel pyjama pants and a plain white tank. 

“Not what you were expecting?” Hermione asked with a knowing grin.

“Ah,” Lucius cleared his throat. “Not at all, you look stunning in everything you wear.”

“Pfft.” Hermione flapped a hand at him as she climbed in beside him. “Nice try. You’re very naked, so I can only assume you were expecting black lace, and very little of it.”

Lucius leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Pink flannel is just as sexy.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and reached into the drawer beside the bed. She held out a thin, rectangular box to him, “I was going to give you this last night, but… well, you know what happened last night.”

“Thank you,” Lucius took the offered gift. “but I think you’ve given me enough.”

“Maybe,” Hermione said and snuggled into his side, tucking her chin over his shoulder and watching as he tugged the ribbon. “But, actually, this is more of a gift for both of us.”

Lucius paused. A few weeks back he’d mentioned his want to visit the monasteries at Meteora in Greece, but his utter dislike of crowds had stopped him from going. However, after receiving the impossible-to-find books from her, he wouldn't be surprised if she’d managed to close the place down and organised a private tour for just the two of them.

She tapped the top of the box. “Come on, open it.”

He kissed her forehead and resumed his task, his hands shaking slightly at the thought of travelling to a much coveted destination with her, one which he knew she would be as fascinated with as he would. 

Prising the lid from the box, he frowned in confusion at the contents. He removed the photograph — it was unmoving, but he was accustomed to the Muggle pictures that now sat amongst the magical ones — and glanced at Hermione. 

She smiled at his confusion, but instead of explaining, she waved her hand across the black and white photo and a quick, pulsing sound filled the room as the grainy picture began to move.

“Hermione, what…?” He lifted the picture, squinting at it, trying to make out the details. “I don’t understand.”

Hermione knew he wouldn't — she had charmed the muggle picture to move. She pointed to the flickering blob in the centre. “That, Lucius Malfoy, is our baby.” 

“Baby?”

“Yes, _ our _ baby.”

She sat up, watching as the realisation dawned on him. His eyes grew wide and he snapped his head in her direction.

“But… but… we’re not married yet!” he exclaimed and Hermione burst out laughing at his astonished expression. 

“N-no, we’re n-not,” she stammered between giggles. “But we do have lots of sex.” 

“Hermione…” Lucius’ eyes darted between the picture and her. “You’re… this is...” 

Hermione waved her hand over the picture again, stopping both the movement and the sound. “I'm pregnant with _ our _ baby.”

She was on her back in seconds, her tank pulled up, Lucius propped beside her, his hand splayed across her belly. 

“Our baby?” Lucius looked down at her and she nodded. His gaze moved to where his hand covered her stomach and he took a deep, shuddering breath. 

“Lucius?” A small flicker of panic danced in her chest. “I know we didn’t plan this, and I’m sure it’s my fault, I probably missed a day taking a potion—“

“This in no way pales in comparison to a marriage proposal, and however this happened, you are most certainly _ not _ at fault.” His eyes never left her belly, and Hermione’s breath caught as a single tear rolled down his cheek. “When?”

“The first week of August.” Hermione winced as she watched him do the mental calculations.

“But that means…”

“I’m eight and a half weeks.” Hermione covered his hand with hers. “I was a little too preoccupied with being an emotional wreck to even notice.”

He finally looked up at her, his eyes glistening. “This would explain the severity of those emotions.”

“Are you okay with this?” Hermione asked, still apprehensive. “Is it what you want?” 

Lucius leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, lingering, kissing her in the sweetest, softest way imaginable. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead on hers.

“Honestly, I wasn’t certain if I was. I dreaded the moment when you would finally bring it up. But now…” He lifted his head and glanced back down at their joined hands on her stomach. “this is the most precious gift you could give me.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you—”

He cut her off with another kiss, his hand coming up to cup her jaw. “Listen to me. You are my world, you are more than I ever deserved, and I have to pinch myself everyday just to make sure that this charmed life I live is actually real. That I’ve been given another chance at love, at life,” He paused and bent to place a kiss on her stomach. “at becoming a father once more… and that you are the one who has given me that chance…” another tear rolled down his cheek and his voice cracked as he tried to speak.

“I know.” Hermione smiled at him. Seeing the emotion on his face made her heart soar. She’d not been certain that having a baby was what she wanted. She loved her work, loved the long hours it entailed, and loved that the library in the house allowed her to continue her research at home. 

But she also loved him. 

She loved the time they spent together, just the two of them. And she knew a child would change that. But seeing his face now, she knew that their little slip-up was a good thing. 

“I know,” she repeated. “And this is _ my _ second chance. My own little family at Christmas, there’ll be no more sadness.”

Lucius kissed her again, and her hand slipped beneath the sheets.

“Darling, I don’t think—” His stomach clenched and he groaned as she swiped her thumb over the crown of his suddenly alert cock. 

“You don’t think…?” She arched an eyebrow in question and he ran his hand gently across her belly, causing her to roll her eyes. “You fucked me on the living room floor just last night and there was no harm done. Not to mention the numerous times in the last few weeks you’ve taken me whenever you wanted.”

“Yes, but that was before I knew.”

She shoved at his chest, forcing him onto his back, and straddled his hips.

“If you think for one second, Lucius Malfoy, that sex is off the table for the remainder of this pregnancy, you’re sorely mistaken.” She ground the soft flannel of her pyjamas against his cock. “You will be at my beck and call for the next seven months.”

Lucius groaned as his cock twitched merrily between them, he could feel the heat of her core even through her pyjamas. 

She leaned down, her chest pressing against his and smiled wickedly. “Did you give up sex the first time around?”

“_Ah_… I… that’s…” he stammered in shock at her question. 

“Did you not love Narcissa’s pregnant body?” She dipped her head and sucked on his racing pulse. “Did you not love the changes? Were you not proud that you had done that to her?”

Lucius groaned. _ Fuck _! She was correct. He’d adored his first wife’s pregnant body. Had loved her curves, loved watching her belly expand as their son grew. Loved how lush her breasts became. But he wasn’t sure he should express those sentiments.

“Hermione,” he ground out as she continued to move over him. “It’s not appropriate… fuuuck!”

She pinched his nipple, and his back arched, his over enthusiastic cock searching for that place of warmth that was hovering teasingly over him.

“Tell me,” she demanded. “Tell me how you felt.”

“She was stunning.” He managed to choke out and she released his nipple from her pinch. “I didn't think I could love her more than I did, but she was infinitely more beautiful when she was carrying our child.”

Hermione smiled, “And…?”

“I wanted her all the fucking time!” 

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” She kissed him and sat up, flicking her wrist and revelling in his gasp. 

The _ transfiguration _ she had cast before she stepped out of the bathroom reversed and only the black lace he had so desired to see remained. 

She lifted her hips, reaching down to move her knickers to the side, and Lucius groaned as she took him inside her body, sliding down the length of him until he was fully seated within her. 

“Merry Christmas, Lucius.”

His hand touched her belly and she smiled down at him. 

“Merry Christmas, my darlings.”

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever fest piece -I don't like deadlines, so I've never participated in one before. But when it's a pairing that you love, it's easy :)
> 
> Great big thanks to my behind-the-scenes team:  
[coyg-81](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coyg_81/pseuds/coyg_81) \- my obsession with Lumione is all your fault.  
[PotionChemist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotionChemist/pseuds/PotionChemist) \- my new-found writing partner who is an incredible talent, and an awesome beta.


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